Dimensions--Part 1

I am going to talk about dimensions. In my life the idea of dimensions has been taking greater meaning on many different levels (dimensions), and like dimensions often do, they often intersect and interact. I find that the more I concentrate on a certain dimension, the more aspects of other dimensions in my life come to the surface.

In this entry, I will also talk about archetypes. Archetypes are useful in describing someone when getting at the essence is impossible. This is because we are all so much more complex than any expression can really articulate. Archetypes are useful because they allow us to draw up in the moment sketches of different individuals and how those individuals interact, and react, with each other.

Earlier in this week I had a nice supper with a couple of friends I will refer to as wise woman and noble strength. We had a nice supper and much discussion. We were chatting about ourselves and how we appear to the world, and how we interact with others. The topic came to the face that we present to the world. Wise woman remarked that whenever she sees me, I am always displaying a different side of myself. She compared it to a diamond, a whole and complete object that shines out many distinct sides. The diamond is perfect yet shines out a different side.

Of course, all three of us could relate to that analogy. We each had many sides and often out of necessity we may have felt it necessary to censor certain angles, so we can better get along with, and relate to, the world around us.

I thought about myself. In my youth I was bullied and had few friends. I adopted a persona of meek passivity as a way of dealing with it. This was for a number of reasons; first, it allowed me to get it over with as quick as possible. Second, it was a way I had in deflecting attention away from myself. In doing this, I would not be a target. Third, it allowed me to take advantage of brief moments of reprieve when I would be temporarily made a part of the group. Yet one truth is that I have always been a deeply sensitive individual. It was easier for me to often lie down and play dead, than to try and fight back. My sensitivity made it difficult for me to fight back, for in such intense moments all I could do was keep it together.

Yes, perhaps at some level I was too sensitive. Sometimes sensitivity and meekness can be mistaken as passivity and weakness. When other do not fully understand us, it is easy for them to take the hostile angle. It makes it easier than fully understanding the weak individual. I look back to one bully that stands out above all else from my Junior High school years. I will call him frightened bully because he saw me in my vulnerability and was enraged by it. He didn’t know what to make of me, and would always look at me with such sharp contempt. The contempt was piercing in his eyes, and there were times he came close to spitting on me. I did nothing to warrant his hate, but that is really beside the point. The point is that my sensitivity could feel the energy of pure hate radiating toward me. In those moments I became docile because docility allowed me to get it over with as soon as possible. It was never because I felt I was weak, and felt I deserved it, it was because that reaction was the only reaction that I could do in such moments so as to play the dummy.

One incident sticks out. It was about sixteen or seventeen years ago. It took place in the gym changing room just after class. We were all getting dressed and getting ready for lunch break. I am not certain what led up to it, but suddenly his rage intensified, and he cornered me. I could feel it. He came up to me and began to mercilessly berate me. Talking me down and such...Anyway, He took hold of my neck and was ravenous with his rage. At this point even some of the other boys were saying he should cool off and that he was going too far. I could feel his contempt for me strongest at that time. Suddenly, he took me and rammed my head into a wooden coat hanger. I was shocked, and dizzy. I was immobile, as the boys began to leave the changing room. One asked me if I was ok. I silently nodded. I waited for everyone to leave. I just sat there in my shock and I cried. I cried so loud and so honestly. This moment set me on a track that I would stay on for ten years. I went forever into my shell and I never left it. It was safe and warm. Who cared if everyone else was going to dances and parties, and having dates and playing sports and all that normal stuff that boys do, all I cared about was preserving my dignity. For the rest of junior high school, high school and the first few years of mature adulthood, in my shell was largely where I stayed. I would go to school (and later university) do what I needed to so, and come home and use the internet. I would chat on IRC, and I would just stay at home. I would rarely venture out unless I had to.

The point here is not that I am sharing my story, wanting pity and/or admiration for my nobility of spirit, the real point is that often out of necessity we do the best we can to cope with our lives. We do what we need to do, and this doing often involves censoring parts of ourselves so as to maintain our own balance. How often do we look at others and not really know at all? For years frightened bully would often emerge from my mind as a divisive figure. I would see myself as kind and sensitive and forgiving and non judgemental and all this good stuff, then memories of him would emerge and I would start having these vicious fantasies where I would get him pinned down in a powerless position and beat the shit out of him while talking down to him. Often over the years, he would emerge as an archetype to challenge my own conception of self. We often try to think the best of ourselves. We often try to see the other as the evil one, or the misunderstanding one. We often find it easier to blame the other so as to make our own inner turmoil less important.

Well, the honest truth is that we are all complex beings. We are complex in and with ourselves, and we are complex in our interactions with others. Scared bully and a few others like him put me through terrible pain, yet the truly beautiful experiences, friendships and accomplishments of my life emerged through my experiences with him and others. It fortified me and made me aware of the depths of my own self. I have never been able to rest in easy honesty with myself. I have always been aware of the different sides of myself. I have always been unsettled in my position. This is a beautiful thing, because the more unsettled you are, the more you are driven to explore yourself and come to terms with yourself. The more you are forced to confront yourself. This is the true gift.